Crackers and juice
by Attack on MLG
Summary: Neil let's Max hang out with him in the pantry attic UwU Things get serious, however when they find out they've been locked in for the night. Story is better than summary I swear. Bromance Nax because I'm a sucka for those two
1. Chapter 1

**OwO what's this? Another random short story to fill my writers block? Damn right it is.**

 **Go ahead and drop a review, they're very helpful!**

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"Oh shit. It's like a proper den up here!" Max whispered in awe, wide eyes scanning the small area curiously.

Neil nodded somewhat smugly as he lead the raven over to the far left corner, diary in hand. "Yep. It's kinda cold, but it's not bad." He carefully sat down on the scrunched up blanket to use as makeshift seat, back leaning against an abandoned cardboard box. Max searched around until he found a dusty drawer, flipping it upside down and sitting on it next to his friend.

"We could plan so much shit up here…" He muttered, thinking out loud.

Neil scoffed, beginning to flick through the diary in search of a new page. "I come up here for peace and quiet, Max. Not scheming." He pursed his lips into a soft smile. "Just be glad I actually let you follow me up here. You're the second."

"Who's the first?"

"Platypus."

That answer wasn't as surprising as Max had expected, but still made him feel extra privileged nonetheless. He watched as Neil pulled out a pencil from his pocket and began to write the date at the top of the page, before tilting the diary away from Max's view.

The raven narrowed his stare at the blantant exclusion, especially when Neil shifted away from him slightly. "So how come I can't see, huh?"

The brunet raised a brow, looking up momentarily. "Diaries are about privacy, Max. That's why I come up here alone."

"So why bring me up, then?" His tone had turned somewhat bitter.

"I dunno?" The diary was closed and placed nearly on the elder's lap as he shrugged. "Company?"

"You literally just contradicted yourself." Max huffed, crossing his arms over his chest. "You either want me here or you don't. Cuz if not I'm more than happy to fuck off back to the tent–"

"Stay!" Neil yelped, his hand tugging on the younger's shoulder. "Stay. It gets boring. It was a poor choice of words."

The raven pursed his lips in confusion. "Boring? You write in a diary, it's kinda a given."

"W-Well–"

"Just go outside and play or something." His jabbed his head in the direction of the exit. "It's not like we could do anything fun up here."

Neil licked his lips and looked around their surroundings. Max was right. There was literally nothing to do. "We could talk–"

"We're already talking. Try again."

"You're not really helping." He huffed.

"Neither are you."

Great. Now it was awkward.

Without speaking, Max stood up and brushed himself down, grimacing at his now dusty hoodie. "See ya." He began to walk to the ladder, but suddenly paused.

Neil narrowed his brows, curious. "What's the matter…?"

"Shhh!" Max tired to him with a finger to his lips.

The two waited in silence for a moment.

The brunet rolled his eyes. "Max, nothings–"

 _"David, quit worrying. They're probably hiding–"_

 _"Gwen we can't keep loosing campers!"_

 _"You're an idiot– hey, let go! I can walk myself–!"_

Max grinned at his friend as they heard the Mess Hall door shut.

"This is fucking great!" He beamed happily.

"You do realise they might call the cops, right?" Neil tried to knock some sense into him. "We could get in trouble–"

"Fuck trouble." The raven walked over to him offering a hand up. "C'mon then. Put that brain to good use will ya?" He pulled Neil up and waited for him to brush himself down.

"You do realise that if we'd've stayed in our tent and snuck out at night, this situation would be a lot easier? Just because we're in the attic and most likely locked in the Mess Hall, doesn't give us any advantages."

Max sighed. "Thank you for that much needed explanation."

"You said to use my brain–"

"Yeah, but not a stupid kind of way. I want schemes, Neil! Not self aware commentary!" He flashed a cheeky smirk, the same smirk that sent chills down Neil spine. "Give me something to work with!"

Neil averted his stare, his own smile tugging at his lips. No matter how hard he tried, he always fell victim to the shorter boy's sinister enthusiasm. "How about we just eat all the pudding–?"

"Deal." He forced him into a firm hand shake. "I hate you, Neil. You know I'm a sucker for the good shit."

"It's pretty obvious." The brunet retorted slyly, making his way over to the ladder, Max following in suit. "It's an addiction."

"It's perfectly normal." They carefully shuffled down the ladder, pausing occasionally when it creaked. Once at the bottom, the duo dusted themselves off once more, before strolling over to the pantry door. Max went to open it, but halted. His brows narrowed. "The fuck…?" He tried again, jolting the handle somewhat desperately. "Oh hell no–"

"What's wrong?" Neil flickered his eyes over the door, ignoring the anger rising in his friend's tone. Max stepped out the way as the elder had a go, grunting impatiently. "Ugh, you've got to be shitting me–" He sighed and turned to the raven. "Okay, so apparently we're locked in."

"No shit, Sherlock."


	2. Chapter 2

"Do you have David's phone?" Neil asked, pausing his pacing back and forth momentarily.

Max shrugged. "The bastard finally put a passcode on it so I don't bother stealing it anymore. So no."

"Do you have anything–"

"Neil, quit worrying." His eyes scanned over the items filling the small room. "We've got food. We've got drink. Sure, sleeping would be uncomfortable, but I'm not planning on doing that. It's cold. I'm not risking getting hyperthermia."

"You won't get hyperthermia from staying the night, dumbass." He muttered, scratching the back of his neck hastily. "At best you'll be dealing with a cold. Nothing serious– what are you–?"

"What does it look like? I'm starving." Max grunted as he awkwardly balanced on his tip toes and searched through the bottom shevle of food, before snatching a box of pop tarts and ripping them open with his teeth. "You want one?" He shook the box in front of Neil's face.

"I, uh, sure." Hesitantly he fished out a poptart, pursing his lips into a small smile as Max threw the box lazily over his shoulder, not caring that it just hit the floor and didn't come close to landing safely on the shelve. Neil shot him a confused glance, biting into the treat slowly, before finishing it off soon after. "You not gonna have one?"

"Nah, I'm not hungry anymore." The raven shrugged. "Plus that shit isn't fun." He strolled over to some of the boxes, wiping off the dust messily with his already dusty sleeves. He was silent for a moment, before he spun on his heel to meet his friend's curious stare. "Help me crack this bad boy open, will ya?"

"What's in it?" Neil asked as he approached the box, trying to ignore how dirty Max had gotten. Upon further notice, however, the box wasn't really a box after all. It was an awkwardly sealed crate. Sighing, the brunet placed his diary down on a nearby shelve for safe keeping.

"If it's what I think it is, then it should be good." The two clumsily took hold of the lid, hinges rusting. This was some ancient crap.

"Whatevers," He grunted as Max pushed into him slightly, the dust now getting over his own clothes. "Whatevers in this fucker is gonna be old as hell."

"I think you mean… ah–" The raven winced as his knuckles turned white, using all his strength to crack open the sealed lid. "…Vintage."

Low and behold, piled neatly in the crate, was at least eight bottles of alcohol. Wine, to be exact.

Neil held back an annoyed groan. "You're not seriously going to–" He cut himself off as Max leant into thw crate and grabbed two bottles, handing one to the elder.

"You can have this one!"

"I, uh I _don't_ think so…" He carefully put the bottle back into the crate, trying to ignore Max's pouting.

"Aw, c'mon, Neil!" He whined. "It'Il be fun!"

"We're children, Max. It's fucking illegal– oh, for fucks sake." He sighed, expression unimpressed as he watched Max bite into the cork, growling as it wouldn't budge. "You're an idiot. You need something to stab it with."

Max removed his teeth from the bottle and stuffed his hand into his back pocket, humming as he pulled out a small switch blade. He bit his lip in concentration as the blade was awkwardly jammed into the cork, twisting it about impatiently. The brunet rolled is eyes, becoming more focused on the locked door. He strolled over to it and tried the handle again, but to no avail.

 _Maybe we could pick the lock…_ He thought. Yes! That _had_ to work.

"Hey, Max? Come help me with this a sec." He turned back to his friend, head cocking in confusion. Max had his back to him, the bottle having been placed carefully on the ground as to not make a noise. "Max? Did you open it–?"

"You don't…" The boy sucked in a sharp breath through gritted teeth. "You don't happen to have any, uh, any bandages, do you?"

 _Bandages?_ "No? W-Why? What's wrong–?" Suddenly he paused, swallowing thickly. Max grimaced as he turned to face him, the bloody switch blade clattering to the floor. Neil could just make out a slice from beneath the crimson mess that was Max's palm.

"M-My hand slipped–" He held his hand limply, eyes glistening as they pooled with tears. "N-Neil it was an accident! F-Fucking h-help me–!"


End file.
